Gateway to Fourline (The Fourline Trilogy Book 1)

by Pam Brondos

  “Can’t wait,” she said, feeling a funny sensation that her dream was coming to an end. She smiled wistfully. “I just wish all of this were real.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The bed was warm and snug, but a light shone somewhere nearby, aggravating Nat’s attempt to return to sleep. She pushed the comforter away from her face and sat up. A lamp burned brightly above the bed.

  “My apologies for the light. I find it’s the best way to gently pull someone from sleep.” Barba sat next to a small round table Nat didn’t remember having seen in the room earlier. She rubbed her eyes, feeling a little disoriented.

  “Are the roads clear?” she asked and looked out the window, thinking it was a benign way to respond to Barba being in the room.

  “No.” Barba poured a few ounces of green liquid into a bowl and began to stir with what looked like a metal chopstick. An earthy smell filled the room. Nat’s nose crinkled. Barba watched Nat carefully. “The smell will go away. Ethet had to come up with something that wasn’t permanent, and unfortunately, it smells like decaying leaves.” The metal stick scraped against the bowl as she continued to stir. “I need you to dress before I start with this.” She gestured to the wardrobe. A long green shift with slits, green leggings, and a cloak embroidered in leaves hung on the door.

  “It’s an old cloak given to me by a Sister from the Warrior House. I thought it best that we present you as a novice of the exiles, or a ‘fringer.’ It may keep certain elements away from you.” Barba stopped stirring for a moment and waited. Nat remained in bed, confused. It was only a dream. This must still be a dream.

  “The conversation with Estos was real, Natalie,” Barba said, as if reading Nat’s mind. “Your money is right here.” She pointed to a thick envelope next to the bowl. “Are you still willing to go now that you are awake?” she asked while holding the metal chopstick over the bowl.

  Nat slid her feet to the floor carefully, as if the surface might give way. She walked to the table and picked up the envelope. She flipped through several hundred-dollar bills with her fingertips. Staring at the money, the image of the forest surged to mind, as if the path Estos had shown her was now a permanent part of her memory. She looked at Barba in disbelief, feelings of wariness and unease growing inside her. “You need me to deliver a message, that’s it?” Nat put the envelope down and crossed her arms.

  “More or less.” Barba failed to meet her eye.

  “It’s the ‘more’ I’m wondering about,” Nat said. “Aside from the whole entry into my subconscious, it’s a lot of money for just delivering a message.” Nat waited for a response, expecting a catch.

  Barba tapped the end of the stick against the bowl. “We haven’t asked you to do anything illegal.”

  Nat wondered if she was reading her mind. If they could get into her dreams, could they get into her thoughts?

  Barba continued, “None of us can deliver the message, but for reasons that will have no effect on you or your ability to do so. I know we have little history with each other—certainly nothing upon which you can honestly base any sort of trust. But that is what I am asking from you, Natalie—to trust us. This is a simple errand for which you are receiving generous pay, nothing more.”

  Nat sensed there was much more she wasn’t being told. She glanced at the fat envelope of cash. The amount was generous—absurd, in fact. No one would pay her that kind of money to deliver a message unless she was still dreaming.

  “Please dress and drink this. I’ll explain a few things while I mark your arm.” Barba handed her a cup of what smelled like herbal tea. Nat took a sip. It smelled faintly like marigolds but tasted buttery. She placed the cup on the edge of the table and eyed the clothing. After opening the wardrobe, Nat slid off her pants and unbuttoned her flannel shirt. She watched Barba through the crack by the door’s hinge. Her back was to Nat as she dipped the chopstick back into the metal bowl.

  “All your garments must come off, Natalie. Undergarments are tucked under the leggings. No jewelry.”

  “I don’t have any jewelry on,” Nat responded, blushing. She would have preferred to do all of this in the bathroom. “What is this thing?” She flung a thin, fibrous piece of clothing that looked like a unitard over the door.

  “The undergarment. It’s made of a material that can deflect sharp objects. Not that you’ll need to worry about that,” Barba added hastily.

  “So it’s like body armor?” Nat stepped into the material, and it instantly conformed to her shape. Why she needed body armor to deliver a message was a question worthy of an answer.

  “Stronger and more flexible. Now come out where I can see you.” Nat stepped out from behind the door. The shift brushed the top of her knees. Barba leaned back in her chair and studied her. “I’ll need to pull your hair back. No Warrior Sister would wear her hair down. Come and sit down, please.”

  Nat sat on a backless stool in front of the table. Barba took her right arm, turned it over, and pushed up the sleeve. Nat placed a hand on her forearm. “Before you start marking me up, look me in the eye and tell me that I won’t be in any danger.”

  Barba smiled and gently pushed her hand away. “You won’t be in any danger placing a message in a tree. Good enough?”

  “I guess.” Nat chewed her lip as Barba began to draw thin entwined lines on her forearm with the tip of the metal chopstick. The color changed from bright green to a faded sage a few moments after the metal pressed against her skin.

  “These markings are from a very old House. They should wear off in a few weeks.” Barba drew six lines interspersed with tiny spears. “If they don’t, you can take it up with Ethet.” She finished the last spear, and Nat held up her arm, examining the markings.

  “My mom is going to take it up with Ethet. She’s not much of a tattoo lover.” Nat imagined her mother’s response if she came home for Christmas with this on her arm. No presents under the tree would be just the beginning.

  Barba removed a brush from the top drawer of a bureau. “Your mother’s a librarian, isn’t she?” She began arranging Nat’s hair in a tight topknot.

  Nat winced. How does she know about my mom? she wondered. “Yes. Will I be back in town by tomorrow night?” she asked, trying to move the subject away from her family.

  “You will be back in a few hours. Finish this.” She handed Nat the cup of tea, completed the topknot, and motioned for her to stand. She fastened a worn leather belt around her waist and a cloak around her shoulders. The leaf pattern on the cloak looked like a kind of camouflage. Barba fingered the border of the cloak. “The thought of someone else wearing my cloak is a little off-putting, but I have to say, you look the part.” She patted Nat’s shoulder as if to say “Good enough.”

  “Am I supposed to be a nun of some kind?” Nat asked.

  “A nun?” Barba repeated, astonished.

  Feeling foolish, Nat said, “Everyone here refers to you and Ethet as ‘Sister.’ If I’m wearing your cloak . . .”

  Barba chuckled. “No, a ‘Sister’ is a woman who has shown she is a master of a specific set of skills or abilities. It’s an honorific. Only those who study, apprentice, and prove their skills are entitled to be called ‘Sister.’ I am a Sister from the Wisdom House, Ethet was the Head Sister of the Healing House.”

  “And I am pretending to be what?” Nat asked, looking down at her garments.

  “You are from an old Warrior House, or rather a new House that has taken on the old ways. Come, we need to go.”

  Nat followed her out the door and down the hallway. “So my area of study is how to be a warrior?” She tried to walk alongside Barba but had to follow at an angle.

  “It is more complicated than that, Natalie. After mastering certain required skills, you choose a specific area. Your markings tell your skill. Yours are the markings of a Keeper of the Accord.” They descended the stairs.

  “What does that mean
?” Nat asked, growing more confused. They passed through the kitchen and down a hallway she hadn’t seen before.

  “It means you keep the bad element at bay.” They entered the room where Riler had been the night before. It was empty, and the makeshift gurney was gone. Steam rose from small flasks sitting above burners that were situated on a long table across from Ethet’s wall of herbs and medicines. Nat felt a vibration through her borrowed boots. She swallowed and shuffled slightly. Looking around for another door that might take them to a garage, her eyes landed on an archway to what looked like a tunnel.

  “Are you the one taking me to the forest?” Nat asked, wondering where Estos was.

  “No.”

  Nat fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, waiting.

  Barba asked, “What will you do with the money, Natalie?”

  “I—” Nat looked down, not interested in meeting her gaze. “It will help solve some problems. Where does this lead?” She pointed down the tunnel.

  “It leads to where you need to go next. You will find an odd door at the end. Just press through. I’ll be here when you get back.” She placed a small dagger and a piece of paper in Nat’s hand. “The dagger is for show, but hide the paper until you reach the tree.”

  “If it’s for show, I don’t really need it, do I?” Nat tucked the paper into a deep inner pocket in the cloak, then examined the dagger in Barba’s outstretched hand. Her hands trembled with nerves.

  “Take it.”

  “None of this is real, anyway, right?” She clipped the dagger to her belt. “I’m still in a dream.”

  Barba stepped forward and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Nat’s ear. “Good luck, Natalie.”

  Nat took a few tentative steps toward the tunnel. Barba nodded in encouragement and then walked over to a shelf laden with glass vials. Nat waited a moment, watching Barba arrange them. Time to go, then, I guess, she thought.

  The vibrations increased as she approached the entrance to the tunnel, which appeared to be carved out of solid limestone. She touched the side and felt the vibrations travel through her fingers. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light. As she walked farther, the tunnel narrowed and the ceiling began to slope downward. The path continued to turn to the right. No lights hung from the ceiling or walls, but she could still see where she was walking. The source of the light remained a mystery until she rounded a last curve to find what looked like an opaque plastic sheet. Diffuse light filtered through its surface. Nat placed her palm against the sheet. It vibrated slightly and flexed away from her. She searched the edge for a place to peel it back or open it, but found none.

  She stepped back. Barba had said to press through. A movement on the other side caught her attention. A long, thin object moved back and forth along the top of the sheet. Nat placed her palm on it again and pushed hard.

  Barba stopped pacing when the small orb zipped through the opening of the tunnel and landed in her palm. Ethet looked up from the table where she was chopping up a greenish root.

  “She’s through, then?” Ethet asked.

  “She’s through.” Barba had told her orb to return only when the girl had crossed over. Now all they could do was wait. Ethet resumed her chopping. Barba, orb in hand, strode over to the wooden door and pulled it open. Oberfisk nearly landed on his backside but quickly righted himself.

  “A little notice would have been nice there, Sister,” he said.

  “My apologies, Oberfisk. I wasn’t expecting you to be taking a nap against the door.” She brushed past him and looked around the hall. Annin, Cairn, and Kroner stopped talking. “Come back in. She’s through. Where are Estos and Andris?”

  “Estos is talking to Riler in the sick room, and Andris went to the training ground after he and Oberfisk almost came to blows,” Annin said as she passed by her into the room. Kroner and Oberfisk took position on either side of the entrance to the tunnel.

  “That one’s not my fault,” Oberfisk said to no one in particular. He flicked a speck of lint off the tip of the spear he was holding. “He just needed a reminder that this isn’t his personal fiefdom. We’re living in a democracy here, and if he doesn’t like it, well, he can head on into the forest, then, and see how well the Nala like his whining.”

  “It does us no good to get on each other right now, Ober.” Cairn took a mortar and pestle from Annin and began crushing some of the green root Ethet had chopped earlier.

  “I know, I know, but he’s not the only one going crazy here. There isn’t a waking moment that goes by that I don’t think about going home and fighting Mudug,” Oberfisk said. “Andris needs to focus on the here and now.” Kroner nodded in agreement, and Oberfisk tapped the base of his spear against the floor.

  Barba shook her head. She’d heard this preachy diatribe against Andris too many times to listen to it again. She whispered to her orb, which shot past Oberfisk’s head back down the tunnel.

  Oberfisk paused long enough to take a breath and then continued. “We’ve all lost our homes, our families . . .”

  “Let me do that, Ethet.” Barba reached for the metal spoon Ethet was using to scrape the sides of a heavy stone bowl. “If I stand here with nothing to do while we wait, I might come to blows with Oberfisk.” Ethet smiled and handed her the spoon. Barba scooped a portion of Cairn’s green mush and added it to the bowl.

  “You never were interested in listening to others, even when you were a student. It’s a good thing you chose Wisdom House. I would have had you living in the garden shed if you’d chosen Healing House.” Ethet looked over the rim of her glasses at Barba.

  “Funny how it worked out, isn’t it, Ethet,” Barba said quietly. She watched her old friend add a few more ingredients. “I dedicated my studies to trying to understand how his father got out.” She looked at Cairn. “And now we are trying to figure out how to get back in.”

  “‘Funny’ isn’t the word I’d use.” Ethet sighed, remembering their flight through the membrane.

  “Is this going to be enough?” Barba asked, peering into the bowl. “If she has more than one bite, we will need multiple poultices.”

  “She won’t get bitten,” Ethet said, then added, “Did she drink the tea I gave you?”

  “About half. I don’t think she liked the taste that much,” Barba said.

  “This will be enough. The tea was almost pure meldon juice. I’m surprised she kept any down.” Ethet raised her silver eyebrows, creating perfect arches.

  “She’s polite but curious. She’ll be full of questions when she gets back. We’ll need to decide what to tell her, if we tell her anything at all. Or maybe it will be best for her to forget.”

  “Messing with memory is my specialty.” Annin bowed slightly, her mass of hair falling forward. She opened her mouth to say more, but Oberfisk’s booming voice interrupted her.

  “Take King Estos! He lost his sister, but you don’t see him trying to take down his compatriots every time the wind blows against him,” he said.

  “Thanks for the compliment, Oberfisk.” Estos shut the door behind him.

  “Sorry, my lord.” Oberfisk said, then grew oddly quiet.

  Estos walked to the tunnel’s entrance and turned to Barba. “She’s over, then?” he asked.

  “Fifteen minutes and counting. She would have been back by now if she’d changed her mind,” Barba said. “Whatever you told her worked. Either that, or she still thinks she’s riding a dream.”

  Everyone in the room thought of at least one other reason why she wouldn’t come back. Estos verbalized it first. “If the Nala leave her alone, she should be beyond the red boulder by now. She’s fast.”

  “Let’s hope she’s fast enough,” Annin said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Nat moved swiftly across the forest floor. She jumped over an ancient moss-covered log without even looking at it. The sensation that her feet knew the way unn
erved her. Dreams are so odd, she thought. Her hood got pushed back, tangled in a branch. She recognized a cluster of trees from Estos’ map. Halfway there. Flashes of green and brown blurred her vision. She’d been exhausted yesterday. Or was it the day before? She couldn’t remember. Her stress and fatigue had to have caused the crazy dreams, including the one reeling through her mind now.

  Another low-hanging branch raked her cloak, but she kept her pace. The forest thinned out. The path widened but kept her inside the line of trees. She found herself glancing constantly to her right, expecting to see something or someone. Birds burst out of a branch above her. Her feet anticipated the turn before it came, pushing her toward an opening in the trees. She looked up to see a field peppered with scraggly shrubs. The crooked tree looked like lightning had split its upper trunk in two. A ring of a half dozen saplings encircled the tree, thick, pointed needles covering their branches. Nat paused. She wondered if she would remember any of this when she woke up. She reached down to push a sapling aside and jerked her hand back. Three needles stuck out from the fleshy part of her palm. Her hand puffed up as she pulled each needle out, wincing in pain. Cradling her throbbing hand, she rounded the crooked tree. The saplings made a perfect ring, almost as if someone had planted them. They were too tall to jump over.

  Nat walked around again and stopped next to a tall aspen. One of its branches bent down over the crooked tree. She unhooked her cloak and placed it on the ground. After two unsuccessful jumps to reach the lowest-hanging limb, she grasped the branch and climbed up the trunk. When she got to the overhanging branch, she stopped with her arm wrapped around the trunk. She could make the jump, but getting back was the problem. The eye in the tree wasn’t high, but if she fell, it would be right into the pointed needles of the saplings.

  Nat jumped and scraped her throbbing hand against the rough bark as she grasped for a handhold. The pain was unlike any sensation she’d ever had in a dream. A thick branch stuck out like a ladder step about three feet above the eye. She encircled the branch with her legs and swung upside down. Her left hand barely reached the hole in the tree, and her fingertips strained to push the folded paper into the opening. A corner of the paper stuck out. She swung toward it and flicked the paper in. Satisfied that nothing more was visible, she pulled herself back up and sat on the branch while the blood drained from her head. The drop was a good seven feet. That, plus the distance needed to clear the saplings, was not going to make for an easy jump. The last thing she wanted was a twisted ankle or broken leg. She’d felt pain in dreams before, but her hand was really throbbing. A twisted ankle would be worse.